


The Journey Home

by MustardYellowSunshine



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, F/M, Humor, Romance, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-07-25 09:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7527103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MustardYellowSunshine/pseuds/MustardYellowSunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kagome Higurashi was dead. At least, she thought she was. That's what the strange silver dog told her, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Great Beyond

Kagome Higurashi was dead. At least, she thought she was. She couldn’t remember dying. She couldn’t remember much of anything, really, other than a vague sense of urgency, a pressing need to find something. Or someone. She couldn’t remember. But she knew she was dead, she _had_ to be dead. There was no other explanation for the place—or the non-place—in which she found herself, everything off-white and foggy and inert. 

 

Wherever she looked, on all sides, there was nothing but thick, pervasive, off-white fog. What an obnoxious color, off-white. Like rancid mayonnaise, or dirty socks. And what was the deal with the fog? She couldn’t make out any landscape, or color, not even a distinction between light and shadow. It was like diving into a giant, off-white can of paint—every spot her eyes landed upon lacked variation from the rest—except even paint had _some_ characteristics, like scent and texture. This place had none of that, though she had the impression that if she _could_ feel here, it would be humid and heavy.

 

As she stood turning in place, trying to spot some break in the fog, she thought she heard the faint rhythms of a human voice. A low drone at first, from no particular direction, and then slowly the sound came nearer. It surged, and a broad figure emerged through the fog to her left. In three long strides it came to a stop precisely in front of her. It didn’t move.

 

“Well, you see,” it said in a startlingly deep, measured voice, “red really isn’t the color of blood anymore, and there’s a hole in the system that I might be able to crawl through if only it wasn’t made of glue—from the ozone, you know—and pretty soon the _apodichthys flavidus_ is going to migrate to the atmosphere because they keep mistaking blue for water, which is really just proof that Nietzsche was correct.”

 

Kagome stared. “Uh…”

 

The large, hulking man in front of her—who, she noted, quite effectively blocked her path—ran a hand through his long black hair in a jerking motion so violent it should have sent him toppling over backwards. Then his hand trailed down his jaw, rubbing three-day-stubble, before he made a jerking motion with his head that only his shoulders followed. The rest of him stayed firmly and rebelliously rooted to the spot, so that even his body looked off-balance when he muttered, “No, no, direction is the cause, not the effect, and there can only be potentiality because actuality would make us all explode into millions of jigsaw pieces that would rust with scorn the moment we tried to paint with them.”

 

The girl thought she saw a spasmodic twitch at the corner of the man’s mouth. “Um, hi. W-who are you?”

 

The man’s eyes—a bright, near-glowing red—were at once both focused and spastic, intently studying the girl but darting all over her body as though uncertain of what to examine first. She tried not to fidget.

 

“Do you, er… I mean, is there anyone else around?” She leaned to the side of the man in front of her, as if hoping to find someone hiding behind his broad frame. But she should have known better—nothing but fog.

 

“Are you trying to fly?” the man asked her, leaning forward and narrowing his scarlet-red eyes. “Because you’d need oxygen for that.”

 

“Uh, no. I just want to know where I am. I mean, I’m…” the girl paused, swallowed, said, “dead. I’m dead, right?”

 

The man stared, and slowly started to smile. The girl didn’t think a smile had ever been so creepy. “A-ha!” the man said, “I figured it out. You’re Walt Whitman!”

 

“Wha—”

 

“Your theories on quantum entanglement needed some revision.”

 

“I am _not_ Walt Whitman! I’m… I’m.” She should’ve known this, she _knew_ she should’ve known this, but all she could think about was off-white. Stop floundering, she thought to herself, stop. Tell him your name. Say it. “Uh. I’m Kae—no, no, Sango. No! Sorry, it’s Kikyo. Yes, Kikyo.”

 

“Actually, your name was Kagome,” said a voice from behind her. She spun around and came thigh to face with a silver—silver? silver!—husky.

 

She blinked. Looked back over her shoulder. The man was still there, standing with his legs apart, hair flopping over his forehead, eyes fixed on the dog.

 

The girl followed the man’s gaze back to the dog. It was a large animal, the top of its head level with her waist, with thick layers of pure, gleaming silver fur. And it was staring at her with unnerving intelligence.

 

“Did you… just talk?”

 

The husky probably would’ve raised his eyebrow if he had one. “Sure did.”

 

“A-Are you...”

 

“Real?”

 

The girl nodded.

 

“Sometimes.”

 

“But… how could—”

 

“I don’t _always_ run around as a dog.”

 

“Huh.”

 

“I was sent here to give you some navigational guidance. I’m Inuyasha.”

 

“Inuyasha. Let me get this straight…”

 

The dog shifted his weight and began scratching behind his ear. “You can get straight later. We have a lot of ground to cover. Do you know why you’re here?”

 

“Uh. I’m dead, right?”

 

“Bingo.”

 

A beat passed. The girl was hyperaware of her own breath. At least, it felt like breath. “So, dead. Like… dead, dead?”

 

“There are no _degrees_ of death. When you’re dead you’re dead.”

 

“Wait.”

 

The dog simply sat, staring at her, a dog and _not_ a dog at the same time. “You were human: you lived, you died, and now you’re here. We'll go over the specifics later.”

 

Funny, she thought, I’m dead and I’m still breathing. She opened her mouth. Words wouldn’t come. Instead, she pointed at her own chest and heaved.

 

“Oh, that,” said the dog, “Technically you’re not actually breathing. That would require oxygen. And a set of physical lungs, I guess. You’re mimicking—it’s the same reason you appear human now. You’re so used to having a physical body that you mimic its habits even after you’ve departed. Like an afterimage that your soul holds onto. It’ll wear off eventually.”

 

“Wear… off. What does that mean, exactly?”

 

“We can talk about it later. We’ve got more important things to do.”

 

Yes, she knew that, didn’t she? She needed to find something. “Okay. Can you tell me how I died?”

 

“I told you, specifics later. You wouldn’t be able to understand half of it, anyway. Right now you need to concentrate on getting past _him_.” Inuyasha nodded towards the hulking man behind the girl (a decidedly strange gesture for a dog, she thought).

 

The girl angled her head to better see the man behind her, who had started pacing frenetically. Four steps in one direction, pivot, four steps in the other, pivot, four steps…

 

“Who _is_ that?” Kagome asked. She could’ve sworn she heard Inuyasha—the _dog_ —sigh deeply. She turned her head to meet level, golden eyes— _gold_ eyes surrounded by silver fur—and she didn’t think she’d get used to seeing a dog with human expression.

 

“He was human once, too. _He_ wouldn’t listen to me, either, when he first arrived, and now he’s reduced to pure knowledge. Knowledge without bounds. Poor bastard.”

 

The girl blinked. “You’re telling me this guy is _knowledge_?”

 

“Yes and no.”

 

When the girl only stared, the dog clarified, “Think of him as a human stripped of every human quality but bare knowledge. Then remove him from the context that predicated that knowledge to begin with.”

 

“I still don’t get it.”

 

“Of course you don’t. You’re human.”

 

The girl rolled her eyes and then wondered if that was mimicry, too. “What’s the use of a talking guide dog that doesn’t explain anything?”

 

Inuyasha bared his teeth in a dog-smile. “Think about it, girl. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that this place is as nondescript as it gets. Death isn’t limited by time and space like life is. It’s without context. What happens to knowledge without context?”

 

“You’re asking _me_?”

 

“A dog can hope.”

 

The girl was brought up short at this return, mostly because she didn’t know dogs _could_ hope.

 

At her silence, one of the dog's ears twitched, his lip curled. “He wouldn’t listen to me. He wouldn’t accept his death. He tried to stay human here, tried to be immortal; he clung to his human knowledge for guidance, but that knowledge didn’t exist in a bounded world anymore. Knowledge without bounds is insanity.”

    

The girl considered that for a moment. “So… that’s why there’s nothing here? No shape or color or… anything? No context?”

 

“Bingo. Give the girl a prize.”

 

“And… why do I have to ‘get past’ him, exactly?”

 

“You don’t _have_ to, but if you choose to stay here, you’ll become exactly as he is.”

 

The girl couldn’t help but focus on the man’s pacing, four steps, pivot, four steps, pivot. The very precision of his movements made him seem disjointed, someone struggling for exactness in a realm defined by its opposite. Something about that determined indirection—the concerted motion with no _progress_ —chilled the girl, made her want to _move_. “Can you tell me why?”

 

“I _just did_. You can’t be dead and refuse to die. If you don’t accept this, you’ll condemn yourself to limbo. _That_ ,” he nodded towards the man, “is what happens when you cling to finite human knowledge after you've shed your humanity—when you try to be immortal.”

 

Find it, something inside the girl seemed to say, find it. Move. “But I already _know_ I’m dead. What else do you want me to do?”

 

“Knowing and accepting are two different things.”

 

“So getting past this guy will, what? Lead me to acceptance?”

 

The dog sighed again, and it was just as strange the second time. “No. And acceptance isn’t all that’s required. It’s just the beginning.”

 

The girl’s dead brain was beginning to ache. She rubbed her eyes with her fingers. “This is confusing.”

 

Inuyasha made a sound somewhere between a growl and a bark. “Like I said, you can figure it out later. You'll _have_ to. But right now I need you to focus.”

 

“On what?”

 

“The task at hand.”

 

“What am I supposed to _do_ , exactly?”

 

The dog tilted his head.

 

The girl waited.

 

And waited.

 

His tail began to tap.

 

“You’re… not going to tell me, are you?”

 

He stared at her.

 

“I hate you.”

 

Tap, tap, tap.

 

Well, the girl thought, I’m already dead. She faced the pacing man. Find it find it. With one pause for the solace of a few seconds’ hesitation, she sighed, threw back her shoulders, cleared her throat, and said with just a _tiny_ hitch in her voice, “Hey.”

 

The man continued to pace.

 

“Excuse me? Can I have a second?”

 

More pacing.

 

The girl slid a perturbed glance at the dog. He only made that half-growl-half-bark noise and wagged his tail twice.

 

No help from that quarter. The girl shook her head and tried again. “Listen. I know you’re, like, a tortured mind and everything, and I’m really sorry about that, but this dog here says you’re the guy I need to talk to. So I’d appreciate it if you’d, you know, stop for a second.”

 

Four steps—pivot—four steps—pivot—four steps—pivot.

 

The girl’s shoulders drooped.

 

The dog barked once, a sharply articulated sound.

 

The man slowed, stood still. No, not exactly _still_ —every one of his muscles seemed to be quivering in place, moving as quickly as his mind. The man shifted, faced the girl like a drill sergeant, legs planted apart, arms hanging straight at his sides. He seemed to be twice as bulky as before, possessor of girth made menacing by lunacy.

 

“Uh, thanks,” the girl said.

 

The man’s eyebrows collapsed in a frown. He stepped forward and held out his hand.

 

The girl looked at the dog. Back at the man. Somehow this mundane gesture was the strangest one she’d seen. Slowly, she responded in kind. Unexpectedly cold fingers clasped hers, squeezing in an assessing, almost exploratory manner, as though they had never touched another person before. Kagome bemusedly noticed the tiny discolored scar at the base of the man's thumb, shaped like a spider.

 

“It’s, uh, good to meet you,” the girl mumbled, a little nonplussed by the whole transaction. “I’m, ah, Kik—” the dog growled loudly and the girl backpedaled, “Kagome! Right, I’m Kagome.”

 

“Best keep that in mind, girl,” Inuyasha grumbled from beside her. “It’s important.”

 

The girl’s response was abruptly cut off by a sharp tug on her right arm. The man was inspecting her palm, eyeing it from only a few inches distance, nose practically touching her skin. “Epidermis…” he said. “Light. Pink.”

 

“ _O_ -kay,” the girl said. “This just got way beyond weird.”

 

“Focus,” said the dog, “get him to focus on you.”

 

“I think he’s already focusing a little _too_ much on me.”

 

“He’s not paying attention to _you_ , he’s paying attention to the sum of your parts. Get him to look at you, _really_ look at you, and we can start making some progress.”

 

The girl was beginning to wonder if the dog knew what he was doing. He _was_ a dog. She tentatively tugged at her hand, hoping that the man would take the hint and let go.

 

This did not have the desired effect. The man started slowly turning Kagome’s hand from side to side, muttering about seams and transparency and locomotion. He started lifting and examining each finger individually.

 

“Seriously, this is getting creepy. Are you listening to me?”

 

“Affirmative,” the man mumbled, still eyeing her fingers.

 

“Could you maybe let go of my hand now? No? Okay. Well. I’m Ki—Kagome. I’m Kagome. What’s your name?”

 

The girl was expecting another diatribe—not a halt in the inspection of her hand, not the release of her arm, not the way the man slowly looked up at her face, eyes intent and focused as they hadn’t been before. Even though the man’s limbs were stationary, his muscles continued to move underneath the skin: cheeks, jaws, forehead all twitching, trembling, never still. His eyes reflected the same restlessness as they peered down at the girl, and she suddenly felt very small.

 

“I... the I,” said the man, “inconsequential misnomer of the homo sapiens.”

 

“Uh…”

 

“I don’t know,” the man said as he retreated a step, putting distance between them, for which Kagome was grateful. “I can’t retain, my name is a misnomer, I don’t remember.” The man backed up several more steps, eyes darting around as though trying to identify his surroundings, as though he _had_ surroundings, and not endless off-white fog encroaching on the brain.

 

“I don’t know, don’t remember, which category was it?”

 

Finally, his gaze settled on Inuyasha, sitting next to the girl with a decidedly un-dog-like expression. For an instant his face changed, became something else, clouded and thunderous, ferocity collecting like darkness. Kagome’s tongue was on the verge of forming some word of warning, but then the man's expression cleared as suddenly as it had darkened, replaced with that same restless precision. He stared at the dog. The dog stared back. He nodded, turned away, and began pacing again, four steps, pivot, four steps, pivot.

 

The girl looked at Inuyasha. He was inordinately pleased with himself, if his dog-grin meant anything.

 

“What does that mean?” she asked.

 

“That, girl, means we can move forward.”

 

Kagome eyed the pacing man, whose mass seemed to have diminished somehow, less looming than before. “What, was he like the gatekeeper or something?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then why the big deal about ‘getting past’ him? Why’d I need to get his attention?”

 

“A couple reasons, really,” said the dog as he stood and began stretching his legs. “First, you need to learn to take direction if we're ever going to get anywhere. I thought I’d take the opportunity to see how well you listen.”

 

Before Kagome could get in a good splutter, Inuyasha continued, “Second, I’ve been trying to reach Onigumo for longer than he or I care to remember. Never hurts to take a chance and see if someone else can succeed where I’ve failed.”

 

This gave the girl pause. She almost felt flattered. “Did—d’you think it worked?”

 

Inuyasha paused to consider this, then shook his head, silver ears twitching. “I think it will be awhile yet. But you did pass the obedience test. Good girl.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“And now we finally move forward.”

 

Something in her tensed, coiled. Yes, move, find it, move. Even still, the girl couldn’t help pointing out, “Don’t know if you’ve noticed this, Inuyasha, but there’s _nowhere_ to go. Unless all this fog is hiding something.”

 

The dog— _Inuyasha_ , Inuyasha, she reminded herself, remember his name—began moving through the fog at a trot, forcing the girl to follow. “Stupid. You don’t listen very well, do you? I told you, we aren’t in the bounded realm. There’s ‘nowhere to go’ because we don’t move through time or space.”

 

“Then how are we going to ‘move forward’?”

 

The girl got the impression that the dog was rolling his eyes when he said, “Humans. They take everything so literally.”

 

“Hey—”

 

“Keep up or I’ll let you flounder in the fog for a few centuries.”

 

And then everything seemed to suddenly close in, fog becoming solid becoming heavy becoming mobile. Everything pressing in on her, off-white and out of focus.

 

“Inuyasha?” A tinge of worry in her voice.

 

“Just follow me. Everything will be all right.”

 

She couldn’t believe she was listening to a damn dog.

 

* * *

 

“This is boring.”

 

“Pardon me for not making _death_ more entertaining.”

 

Kagome couldn’t think of anything to say to that.

 

They were walking—or floating, or phasing, or mimicking, she didn’t really know which—through endless off-white. It was like being on a treadmill that had no off-switch, constant motion with no discernible progress.

 

“So, guide dog… _where_ are we going?”

 

A growl. Silence that crackled with pent irritation.

 

“You’re not lost, are you?”

 

That one earned a snarl, and the girl started to perk up a little.

 

“Bitch, you’re lucky I’m patient. Don’t push it.”

 

Bitch? That was a new one. “Right. Lucky. I’m just, you know, dead. And wandering aimlessly through the afterlife with a guide dog that doesn’t know where he’s going.”

 

“Is that a request? Because I could _lose_ you right now, and then you’d know the real meaning of aimless wandering.”

 

Better and better, the girl thought. “So what's stopping you?”

 

A pause. “Lots of things. My boss, for one.”

 

That shut her up for all of five seconds. “You have a boss? Who is it? God?”

 

“If you’re lucky, you’ll never find out.”

 

The seriousness in his tone was rather disconcerting. “Why?”

 

His lip curled. “My boss is not to be taken lightly. You’re deathly experience will be so much pleasanter if you only have to deal with me.”

 

The girl eyed him dubiously, but he was too busy trotting to notice. “So then, what _are_ you exactly? I mean, what’s your position?” The dog slowed and looked at her quizzically. “I mean,” the girl continued, “like, what’s your job description?”

 

“It’s complicated.”

 

“So dumb it down.”

 

“Babysitter.”

 

It took the girl several non-seconds to get it. “Hey!”

 

“You asked.”

 

“I was sort of hoping for a real answer.”

 

There was that dog-grin again. “That _was_ a real answer. I don’t have a ‘job’ in the way humans understand that term. I have responsibilities, and there are authorities I’m subordinate to—because I _choose_ to be, not because of some arbitrary hierarchy—but it’s not exactly a job.”

 

“So what is it, then?”

 

“It’s just what I do. Why I'm here. I help Departed ones find their way.”

 

The girl wondered if she should’ve found this stranger. “Huh. So dogs are the guardians of the afterlife?”

 

“I told you, I’m not always a dog.”

 

“Then why…?”

 

Inuyasha looked at her again, assessing, weighing. She almost felt his gaze like a physical touch. “You probably don’t remember this,” he said, “but I’m currently in the form of your past pet—with a couple alterations. It’s standard procedure to appear before the Departed in a form they might recognize from life. Makes things a little easier.”

 

The girl stopped. Inuyasha was already sitting and staring at her, as though he’d anticipated this reaction.

 

“I… had a pet?” Kagome asked.

 

The dog nodded.

 

“I had a pet.”

 

“You didn’t recognize me at all?”

 

Kagome shook her head. Inuyasha looked grim, and that inside-part of her tensed. Move move move, it said.

 

“This could be good or bad,” the dog said. “For some, death is easier with no ties to life. No memory, no anchor. It’s easier to let go. But for others, that can be a hindrance. They can’t come to terms without memory.”

 

“So, what does that mean for me?”

 

“Only you can decide that." A pause. "Kagome.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“What’s my name?”

 

She blinked. “Inuyasha.”

 

“Good. And yours?”

 

“Kagome.”

 

Inuyasha looked pleased. “Good. Don’t forget that. Keep reminding yourself. You have to hold onto your name. It’s important.”

 

Kagome nodded. Inuyasha stood and tilted his head at her. "Let's get going, then," he said.

 

They resumed walking. Several long moments of silence, and then—

 

"You're still lost, aren't you?"

 

"Shut up."

 

* * *

 

 

"I spy with my little eye..."

 

A gusty sigh.

 

"Something that is..."

 

Golden eyes rolled. "Foggy?"

 

The girl shook her head. "Nope. Something that's fluffy."

 

"Fog?"

 

"You already said that! And no."

 

"Fog can be fluffy."

 

" _No_."

 

"Fine, fine. Your hair?"

 

"What?" Kagome fingered a strand of dark hair hanging over her shoulder. "My hair isn't fluffy!"

 

"It ain't exactly sleek."

 

Her lips pursed, and she muttered, "It's _wavy_ , not _fluffy_."

 

Another sigh, this one decidedly exasperated. "If you want to get technical about it, your hair doesn't even _exist_."

 

Well. The dog made a good point. Kagome huffed. "Forget it, I'm picking something new."

 

"Don't bother, I didn't even want to play the game in the first—"

            

"I spy with my little eye..."

 

"Stop."

 

"Something that is..."

 

The noise that issued from Inuyasha's throat was much more growl than sigh.

 

"Green."

 

The dog didn't even do her the courtesy of thinking about it. "Your skirt."

 

"... yes."

 

"There, I win. That means we stop—"

 

"I spy with my little eye—"

 

"I'm going to smite you."

 

"Something that is _grumpy_."

 

A sidelong golden glance in her direction. "Firstly, rude. Secondly, that's not a color."

 

"Nothing here is a color. I have to get creative."

 

"How about you get _quiet_?"

 

"Wet blanket."

 

"Chatterbox."

 

"Mutt."

 

"... you know you're setting yourself up for the B-word, right?"

 

"... shut up."

 

"I will if you will."

 

Kagome stuck her tongue out at the dog trotting beside her. "Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I have to be _bored_ , too. I'm just trying to stay entertained while we wander around in circles in the great beyond."

 

The look Inuyasha shot her was duly offended. "We're _not_ going in circles. And for your information, it's your fault that we're still here."

 

The girl's eyebrows rose. "How do you figure? You're supposed to be the guide dog."

 

"Yeah, but I don't have much to work with, here." There was an unmistakable sulkiness in his voice. "You arrived with no memory of your former life. If you _had_ , we could've settled things immediately—I'd have given you the spiel and let you make your choice. But you didn't, I can't, and you won't be able to make your choice until you've remembered."

 

"What do my memories have to do with anything? Just tell me the spiel and we'll get it over with."

 

Inuyasha actually stopped walking and turned to face her. She took several steps ahead before realizing he'd stopped, and, surprised, she turned back towards him.

 

"Are you saying," he said, slowly and cautiously, "that you're willing to move on—to accept death, give up your selfhood as you know it—without the memories of your life? You're willing to go now, as you are?" A pause. "You can, you know. Many Departed do. I just didn't think you would. I can sense it in you. The void of your memory is like an anchor tied around your neck: tying you down to your earthly life. Destroying that void can release the ties."

 

Kagome could only stare at him.

 

"But was I wrong?" he prodded, all former teasing and annoyance vanished, replaced with a solemn canine scrutiny and a gentleness that surprised her. "Are you ready to move on now?"

 

"I..."

 

Her entire being constricted. A thrumming, quivering panic filled her, made her (non)lungs feel winded.

 

No. Find it. Move. _Find it_.

 

She slowly shook her head. "I don't... think so."

 

Inuyasha's eyes were steady and intent and bright against the silver gleam of his fur. "You sure?"

 

Find it find it.

 

"I'm..." She hesitated. "I feel like I need to... _find_ something first."

 

Inuyasha leaned forward almost imperceptibly, eyes unwavering. "Find what?"

 

Kagome paused, focused her attention inward. That inner urgency was there, the desire to seek something. But when she probed it, poked at it, it remained unyielding. She felt its pulsing insistence, but couldn’t corral it towards any purpose, any object.

 

And for the first time, she felt her bankrupt memory as a loss.

 

She shook her head at the dog. "I don't know."

 

He watched her for a moment longer, and she absently realized that it was becoming less and less strange to see the preternatural intelligence staring at her from his dog’s face.

 

"Well," he finally said, "we’d better find out, then."

 

Without further ado, he started trotting forward at a quick pace. Kagome almost had to jog to keep up.

 

A beat passed.

 

“I spy with my little eye—”

 

“Oi.”

 

“Something that is—”

 

“Loud?”

 

“Hairy.”

 

“Oh, har har. What’re you gonna do next, make a slobber joke?”

 

"I was actually planning a good flea zinger.”

 

He released a soft _whuff_ —the canine equivalent of a _tsk_ , she supposed—and said, “Sloppy. Hope you can do better than that.”

 

“You’ll have to wait and see.” Peering ahead into the fog, she sing-songed, “I spy with my little eye, something that is—”

 

“Begging for heavenly rebuke?”

 

“—green.”

 

Inuyasha threw a glance at her. “You already used that one. Slacking already?”

 

The girl stopped and pointed down. “Green.”

 

The dog halted and followed her gaze. One of his ears flicked. “Oh. Green.”

 

Below them, grass was growing in sparse patches, tiny green spears shooting up from the off-white nothingness around them. Dog and girl glanced at each other; then in unspoken agreement, they both started forward, following the trail of green into the fog.

 

The grass became progressively thicker and taller as they went. Soon it was up to Kagome’s knees and Inuyasha’s chest. Kagome glanced around, hoping to see other signs of life, of more than a fog-landscape. Nothing. Just this grass stretching into the distance.

 

“What is this, Inuyasha?”

 

He kept his gaze forward. “This,” he said, “means we’re close.”

 

“Close to what?”

 

He didn’t answer. Instead, he sped up to a trot, which quickly turned to a jog, which then became a full bore run.

 

"Hey!" She broke into a sprint after him, keeping her eyes fixed on the silver head parting the tall grass in front of her. "Wait up!"

 

They ran. And ran. The grass was seemingly never-ending, waves of rippling green in every direction. It now reached Kagome's waist, and was level with Inuyasha's head. She could only see his ears poking up as he darted through it.

                                         

And then she lost sight of him completely. In the span of a blink he'd disappeared, swallowed by green. She could still see the short trail of parted grass in his wake, but even that was getting fainter as he got farther and farther ahead.

 

"Wait!" she cried, trying to speed up. "Inuyasha!"

 

 She couldn't see him, couldn't hear him.

 

"What kind of guide dog are you? Wait!"

 

 Nothing but the whispering rustle of grass.

 

This was almost worse than the fog.

 

Her pace began to slacken, slowing until she came to a total standstill. She swiveled her head around, looking for any signs of silver.

 

"Hey! Inuyasha!" Silence. She huffed. "Where are you, you stupid dog?!"

 

"No need to get snippy," came his voice, distant and vaguely muffled. "I knew where you were the whole time."

 

She pivoted on her heel, turned a slow circle. "Where are _you_?"

 

"Just follow my voice."

 

He barked once, then twice, sharp and resonant—off to her right. She started walking in that direction, using her hands and arms to part the grass.

 

"Marco!" she called.

 

She heard the faintest sigh, then, "Polo!"

 

"Marco!"

 

Another sharp bark, much closer this time.

 

She'd just opened her mouth to call to him again when she caught sight of twin silver ears peeking above the grass. She grinned despite herself and quickened her pace.

 

When she finally reached him, he was sitting beside an old wooden well, nestled—and almost hidden—in the tall grass. It looked ancient, weather-stained and covered in moss. Its wood was cracked and splintered along the sides, but the lip of the well was rubbed so smooth it looked nearly polished. As though many, many hands had touched there.

 

And as soon as she saw it, her whole being tightened, focused. That inner-part of her nearly chanted in glee: find it find it find it.

 

"Inu... yasha?" she questioned, gaze fixed on the well. "What...?"

 

"Do you sense it?" he asked, drawing closer and propping his forepaws on the well's lip. "It's here for you."

 

That urgent, insistent pulse rippled through her, sizzled along her skin. "For... me?"

 

He looked at her. "It's always been here for you."

 

She nodded, though she didn't understand.

 

"Jump in," he said.

 

She didn't even think to question him, to wonder at the sheer lunacy of jumping down an unknown well. Her feet moved of their own accord, took her to its rim. She peered over the edge, and was met with darkness... and the tiniest pinprick of light, glowing faintly at the bottom of what seemed to be miles of dank dark.

 

She glanced back up, met Inuyasha's piercing eyes.

 

"Jump," he said quietly. "I'll be right behind."

 

She looked back into the well—at the light in its very bottom. Her right knee lifted, braced against the well's lip; her fingers trembled against the wood. She took a deep breath... and swung her body over the edge.

 

She fell down into the dark.     

 

 

(Artwork by the wonderful [Grapefruitwannabe](http://grapefruitwannabe.tumblr.com/post/147778328368/i-am-dying-for-more-of-the-journey-home-by-mustard))


	2. The Well of Time

There was darkness, and the sensation of falling, and a surprising warmth—like a gentle puff of breath, a sigh across her skin—and she opened her eyes to a forest.

 

Kagome blinked, then rubbed at her eyes, then looked again. She'd expected dim earthen walls and a long climb up; instead she was met by clear air and a vast expanse of trees on all sides. Cedar, cypress, maple, beech... mountain trees, ancient trees. They soared above her head, their trunks so thick that ten people linking arms couldn't circle around them. Above her, their branches wove and mingled, forming a dense green canopy pierced intermittently by beams of sunlight. It was not dark beneath the forest canopy; the light was soft and ambient, like the light of early morning.    

 

After wandering in a (literal) fog of nothingness for (literally) as long as she could remember, the sheer _presence_ of the forest was almost too much to absorb. She was so cowed by its immensity that it took her a long moment to realize something: the wooden well was nowhere to be seen. Gone, as though she'd simply dropped from the sky and landed here.

 

Something else was missing too. "Inuyasha?" She turned a slow circle, eyes sweeping around her, peering between tree trunks. "Inuyasha," she called again, "you there?"

Her voice seemed shockingly loud in the otherwise silent forest. She was almost afraid to speak again, hesitant to disturb the stillness, tangible as a living body. Instead she took a few faltering steps forward. Stopped. Took several more steps, then paused again. She listened for any sounds, any indication that another living— _er_ , well, more like _dead_ —being was nearby. But she heard nothing.

 

"Inuyasha?" she tried again, whispering his name into the woods. When it was met with nothing but silence, she sighed, trying to ignore a pang of anxiety at the absence. "Kind of slacking on the job here, guide dog."

 

She turned another circle, staring up at the light-dappled, intermingling leaves of the forest canopy. The longer she stood there, watching the play of light and shadow, the slower and more muddled her thoughts became, until finally, her mind went curiously blank. She felt an odd, drowsy sense of peace. It started as a heaviness in her legs, then a strange but pleasant warmth in her belly. It would be nice to sit down and simply watch the leaves move. So restful, to close her eyes and enjoy the silence. Her eyelids drooped. She bent down and sat cross-legged in the grass, hands resting against her thighs, face upturned and eyes closed.

 

She watched the shadows of the leaves move across her eyelids. She thought she felt a warmth like sunlight on her face. The grass sighed in a passing breeze, and the trees seemed to whisper together, a lulling background hum that made her want to lie down.

 

Yes, she should lie down. It would be nice to rest for awhile.

 

Something brushed against her feet. It was an agreeable sensation, like a cat rubbing against her ankles, and it made her even drowsier, ready to curl up and sleep.

 

She wanted to sleep. She should just lie back and sleep.   

 

But as she started easing herself down to the grass, something prickled at the back of her mind.

 

Move, said the small voice inside her. Move. Find it.

 

She stopped uncertainly, torso half-lowered to the grass.

 

Find it, the voice repeated. Find it find it find it.

 

Find what? she thought sluggishly even as she slowly levered herself back up, eyes still closed, stubbornly clinging to the possibility of sleep.

 

Move, the voice whispered. Move move move.

 

With much more effort than Kagome thought it should take, she slowly opened her eyes. Flare of light, blurry green of leaves, shapes of trees. Details slowly came into focus, and she absently glanced down—only to see brown roots the size of garden snakes wrapped around her ankles, beginning to creep up her shins. With a low, startled yelp, Kagome surged up to a standing position, and nearly overbalanced when her feet were held firm by the roots. They were growing from the ground around her feet, in a suspiciously and evenly formed ring where she’d been sitting.

 

She tugged at one of her legs, pulling as hard as she could. She felt several of the roots snap and give way. With a vicious yanking kick of her leg, the others followed suit and her leg was free. Repeating the action with her other leg, she was soon jumping away from the roots, the snapped ends falling to the ground.

 

“Great,” she mumbled to herself, something like fear tingling along her spine. “Just great. First the stupid fog, then my guide disappears, now carnivorous trees?”

 

Well, obviously sitting down wasn’t a good idea. But she even still felt the drowsy call of sleep. The background whisper of the forest seemed to become more pronounced, more enticing.

 

Move, prompted the quiet voice even more insistently. Go.   

 

So, reluctantly, she did.

 

Forcing her feet forward, she walked in no particular direction, with no thought for what lay ahead or what she ought to find. That cloying, tempting drowsiness dragged at her thoughts. Aware only of the sway and creak of branches overhead, and the sight of her own feet taking one careful step at a time, she walked.

 

For awhile nothing changed. Light and shadow dappled the ground. The forest loomed all around, the trees seeming to breathe as one.

 

Then she passed under a distinctly darker shadow. A large, black bar cut across the ground.

 

Startled, she stopped and looked up. A massive red _kasuga_ _torii_ gate soared above her head. It was taller even than the forest’s ancient trees, their tallest branches just skimming the underside of the gate’s lintel; so tall that she couldn’t even see its black peaked _kasagi_. Its enormous wooden pillars towered up on her right and left, solemn and imposing.

 

Well, she thought. At least I know there’s something other than trees nearby.

 

As if jolted by the thought, her mind began to clear, shaking off the drowsiness that had settled over her. She didn’t have to force her feet forward this time, certain now that she was at least heading towards something.

 

Before long, she passed beneath another _torii_ gate, identical to the first, so large that she could only see its top by craning her head back and staring straight up. Passing beneath the dark shadow cast by its lintel felt very much like crossing a threshold—and though she could still see trees in every direction, they seemed muted somehow; distant, as though she were looking through the wrong end of a telescope. It felt as though she left the forest behind with every step. Soon she passed another _torii_ , and another. They were closer together now, maybe 50 feet apart. With each gate she passed, the distance between them grew shorter and shorter, until finally she was walking through a tunnel of _torii_ gates, one right after the other, their pillars nearly touching. Light filtered through the narrow chinks between pillars, but it was otherwise dark beneath the _torii_.

 

Though it was hard to tell in the gloom, she was almost sure she was going up an incline, the ground beneath her feet gradually rising. And then she saw the faintest glow up ahead, just above eye-level, and she knew for certain: she was walking uphill.

 

She picked up her pace, moving through the shadows at a trot. The light got brighter and brighter as she approached, bleaching away the gloom under the _torii_.

 

When only a couple _torii_ gates were left—the light ahead of her now searingly bright—she stopped. The faintest tug on her consciousness tempted her back, towards the somnolent silence of the forest. At the same time, an inner urgency prodded her forward, a kind of nervous energy prickling across her body. She wanted, desperately, to go in both directions, and she also wanted to stay put, tucked away beneath the _torii_ where no decisions need be made.  

 

She wished Inuyasha were there to tell her which way to go. Then, closing her eyes with a sigh, she forced her feet to carry her forward.  

 

White light flared and blazed against her eyelids. Though she felt no discomfort, she winced on impulse and shaded her eyes. Must be more mimicking, she thought absently.   

 

And when she opened her eyes, she found herself standing before the tallest tree she’d ever seen.

 

Did _everything_ in this place have to be so freaking massive?! The afterlife was turning out to be some warped form of Russian nesting doll, each discovery more overwhelming than the last.

 

Because what stood before her was _massive_ , if ever anything had fit that description: taller and wider than the _torii_ gates she’d passed under, taller than the trees of the forest she’d left behind, this tree was a behemoth of living wood and root and leaf. In the very center of its trunk was carved a wide, shallow groove, like a pale strip of scar tissue in the bark. Its branches webbed overhead, a net that seemed to make up the sky. Its leaves were even larger than her body, fluttering in a breeze she couldn’t feel, flashing their pale silver undersides. There was no shade under the tree’s branches: a warm glowing light—somehow soft and piercing at the same time—flamed out around its trunk and leaves. Its vast roots unfurled all around it like mountain spurs.   

 

Yet more overwhelming than all this was the feeling that the tree was _aware_ of her, watching her. She felt as if she’d walked into the middle of a stranger’s house: a trespasser in a place belonging to another.

 

So she wasn’t _too_ surprised when the tree spoke.

 

“You have come, lost one,” it said.

 

More sensed than really heard, as if the words were spoken directly into her mind, Kagome _knew_ it was the tree speaking, knew it without question. Its voice was both faint and booming, a whisper and an earthquake all at once, and the sensation was the closest to pain she’d felt since finding herself in the afterlife. She had to resist the urge to clap her hands over her ears. She didn’t think it would do much good, anyway.

 

“Not many find their way to me,” it continued in its whispering wooden rumble. “Most are tempted by the forest, persuaded to stay and wander until they are lost, or become one with the forest itself. Yet you found the path.”

 

“Uh,” she mumbled, shifting uncertainly on her feet. “I guess?”

 

“Then you seek something, little soul? Only those who seek find their way here.”

 

“I… I’m not sure.”

 

“Are you not?” Leaves sighed overhead. The tree’s light was very bright. “Perhaps, then, the path found you.”

 

She didn’t know what to say to that, so instead she glanced around and asked, “Where am I, exactly?”

 

There wasn’t much to see other than the tree before her: it stood alone on a rocky promontory, a half-moon of land with the tree at its center. All around that half-moon was a sharp drop off a steep cliff edge. Kagome could see nothing past the cliff but a vast sky striated with pale gold and blue and pink.

 

“This is the beginning, and the final ending,” rumbled the tree, startling her attention back to its great expanse.

 

Kagome frowned up at its branches. “What?”

 

The branches creaked and murmured, as though chuckling at her. “It means, little soul, that you have reached the Well of Time. The place where Time begins and flows and ends, and then begins again.” A low wooden hum rolled through the air. “My roots are deep; they drink from Time’s great ocean, its currents and tides. They cradle all that was and is and will be. I have stood over the Well of Time since I was a sapling no larger than you, and here I will stand until I shrivel and crack and sprout again. This is the place of Time’s dwelling.”

 

The girl hesitated when it finished speaking, waiting for more—there _had_ to be more, right? That answer was so confusing it was Inuyasha-worthy—but the tree did not continue. After another moment’s silence, the girl finally said, “So you’re, like… the guardian of _all of time_?”

 

“Guardian? No, not that. Little soul, I contain Time and I drink from it—I am in Time and outside it. Thus it has always been, and so it shall always be.”

 

Yep, definitely Inuyasha-levels of confusing. She was sure the stupid dog’s tail would be wagging at her bewilderment, too, if he were here.

 

Certain that this conversation would be setting her on the path for a migraine if she were still alive, she briefly rubbed her fingers over her eyes. “But I don’t… that’s not possible, to be in time _and_ outside of it,” she said with a tiny shake of her head. She was vaguely aware that she was missing some larger point, a more pressing question that she wasn’t sure she wanted answered. Instead of struggling for the question, she said, “This place is… well, I’m dead, right? So this place is part of the afterlife, or ‘the other world’, or whatever. Inuyasha said that we’re not in time anymore. Time is finished here, it’s all over for us.” As the tree’s branches groaned above, she added uncertainly, “Isn’t it?”

 

“Much more is possible than humans can understand. Your kind perceives Time as a straight path: there is only the path already traveled and the path still ahead, hours that are gone and hours still to go. For you the path is finite: with each step, each hour, it depletes until finally it ends absolutely. Is that not so?”

 

Kagome nodded.

 

“Then what, little soul, is the stuff of hours? What is the sea in which hours float? You count out Time like numbering the waves lapping at a shore, but you take no notice of the great ocean from which the waves spring. You do not see that the waves return finally to the ocean, its tides and currents and hidden life. Time is no path, but an ocean: there are no hours truly gone or hours yet to be, they are all at once and never gone. All here in the great ocean, in the Well of Time.”

 

Almost before the words had finished ringing in her head, the girl felt a rumble in the ground beneath her feet: faint at first, but rapidly growing in intensity, as though an avalanche were building below the land’s surface. Then with a hissing, crashing urgency, a plume of water shot up from the ground near the trunk of the tree, in the middle of a large basin formed by two of the tree’s immense roots. The rushing sound of water quaked the air, and Kagome watched with rapt attention as the groundswell boiled and churned, quickly filling the basin at the foot of the tree.

 

Finally the rush of water slowed to a gurgle, then a trickle, and then ceased. The pool of water lapped against the tree’s roots, ripples like tiny waves spreading across its surface. The water was so clear and pristine it was nearly colorless.

 

“The Well of Time,” the tree whisper-boomed in her mind. “It contains what you seek, little soul, as it contains all.”

 

“What I seek?” she whispered almost thoughtlessly. She cautiously approached the basin of water.

 

“You search for something, do you not?”  

 

Yesssssss, whispered the voice inside her. Find it.

 

“Yes,” she echoed. “There’s something that I’m... looking for.”

 

“Yet you are not certain of what?”

 

She shook her head. “I can’t remember.”  

 

“You may find it, or glimpse it, here. You were once a creature of Time. And though you have forgotten it, your life still floats in its sea. Remember that there are no hours truly lost, but they are all at once and never gone, here in the Well of Time. If you truly wish to find what you have lost, peer into the Well.”

 

Kagome stepped closer, the toe of her shoe scuffing against one of the roots forming the basin.

 

“But take heed,” said the tree. “You return to Time as a wave lapping the shore—a brief brush before you must return to sea. You are no longer a creature of Time, little soul; it is not in my power to restore you to the hours of your life. But you may visit again as waves visit the land.”

 

The nervous energy was back, quivering through her. “I can see my life?”

 

“You will see what the Well of Time chooses to show you,” the tree whisper-roared. “What that will be, I cannot say. But the Well called you here, little soul: you will see what you need to see. Come.”

 

The roots forming the basin were so large they reached her waist. Using her arms to hoist herself up, Kagome climbed atop the nearest root and kneeled at the edge of the pool, leaning over to peer into the water.

 

It was odd: the water was completely clear, colorless, and yet it was also opaque. She couldn’t see anything at its bottom, couldn’t see anything but perfect reflections on its flat, still surface. She saw mirrored leaves and branches waving gently overhead, and tiny patches of pale blue and gold sky. And she saw, for the first time, herself. Her own face, staring wide-eyed back at her. A pulse of recognition beat through her, stirred up that nervous energy. Long, raven-black hair waving down her back, curling slightly around arms and shoulders; small rounded chin; sharp cheekbones; a nose that might have been delicate but for the blunted, too-broad tip and nostrils; large, smoky grey eyes that seemed, somehow, to flash blue when she turned her head at different angles.

 

She would have been shocked to see anything else, and yet she felt like she was meeting a stranger. She turned her chin from side to side, staring in fascination at the reflected motion, wondering how she could look so substantial when she knew herself to be dead. Mimicking, as Inuyasha had called it.

 

Suddenly, though she had not touched the water, ripples began forming in the center of the pool, fracturing the reflections on its surface. The girl leaned forward even more, trying to see what caused the ripples, and—

 

_She stood in a paved courtyard, beneath the shade of a large tree. It looked exactly like the tree she’d just been speaking to—dense spreading branches, tall thick trunk with a pale, silvery scar right at its center—only it was much smaller, not nearly so overwhelming. Across the courtyard from her was a sprawling shrine building, its peaked roof and gables curving up towards the sky; adjacent to it stood a much smaller building in the same style, perhaps a tool shed or storage room; and behind the shrine, just within sight, stood a little white, two-storey house with green shutters._

 

_Kagome took in these sights only peripherally, though. Because standing in front of her, stealing every last shred of her attention, was—herself. Herself and not herself. Herself, but noticeably younger than the reflection she’d just seen, and wearing different clothing: a green and white school uniform. Compulsively, Kagome’s hands smoothed over the skirt of the pale green, floral dress covering her own legs._

 

_The younger version of her was kneeling down on one knee, gleefully scratching the neck and chin of a large husky._

 

_Kagome blinked._

 

_The dog looked almost exactly like Inuyasha, though there were a few small differences. It wasn’t quite as large, its coat was a mottled white and grey rather than gleaming silver, and its eyes were brown. But in every other feature, it was exactly Inuyasha, down to the shape of its snout and the cant of its ears. She nearly called out his name just to see if he would respond._

 

_The other her was smiling and cooing at the dog as she scratched it. “What a good boy you are,” she hummed in the high pitch reserved for animals and infants. “What a handsome, friendly boy!”_

 

_The dog’s plumed tail was wagging vigorously, swishing against the pavement._

 

_Then the other her looked up, and Kagome realized—how had she possibly missed it?—that another person stood next to the girl’s kneeling form._

 

_And in an instant, everything shifted. The moment the girl looked up at her companion, Kagome split in two. She watched herself and she_ was _herself; she saw from her eyes and from the other girl’s eyes, felt the limits of her own being and also inhabited the body of the other her—experienced two realities simultaneously._

 

_The rush of sensation, the blinding expansion of consciousness, brought her to her knees. What she once would have called pain ripped through her skull like paper tearing in two. Closing her eyes, she clutched at her head, rested her forehead against her bent legs._

 

_Relentlessly and brutally clear, words cut through the sensory flood. “I can’t believe you got me a dog!”_

 

_She heard herself saying the words as from a distance, and she felt herself saying them too. She saw concurrently the darkness of her closed eyelids and the face of the person—the boy, she thought, it looked like a boy—next to her. And it was strange: though she could see his face, she couldn’t quite make it out, either. Like staring through the lens of a camera that wouldn’t focus, or seeing something from only peripheral vision: she could see him but he seemed obscure, remote._

 

_“You go nuts every time you see a dog,” the boy said, his voice deeper than she would have expected. “Figured you should have one of your own before you kidnap one off the street.”_

 

_She—er, the other girl?—swatted the back of her hand against the boy’s leg, but she felt the grin stretching her lips. “Where’d you get him?”_  
  
  


_The boy kneeled down next to the girl and reached out to stroke the dog’s head, their outstretched arms nearly touching. “A shelter in Atsugi. Took the train out there and spent a couple hours with him. I knew right away he was the one for you.”_

 

_“Really?” She smiled, pleased by the amount of thought and care he’d put into it. “What made you think so?”_

 

_The boy smirked. “He’s stupid and way too happy, just like you.”_

 

_Smack! went the back of her hand again, this time against his shoulder, but his smirk only grew wider. “You’d better be nice to me,” she both said and heard herself say, “or I won’t give you_ any _of my birthday cake.”_

 

_“Real scary threat.”_

 

_She nodded solemnly. “Cake deprivation is no joke.”_

 

_His lips twitched again. She returned her attention to the dog and asked, “What’s his name?”_

 

_“Kenta.”_

 

_The cooing resumed immediately. “Kenta! Such a good name for such a good boy!” The dog’s tail wagged even harder, and he scooted closer to Kagome, placing a forepaw on her thigh as though to keep her in petting position. He starting licking Kagome’s forearm as she scratched his cheeks and ears, and she laughed._

 

_The boy’s smirk turned into a genuine, satisfied smile. “Told you,” he said without an ounce of smugness. “He’s yours already.”_

 

_“I can’t believe you got me a dog,” she repeated quietly, tone a little awed. “This is the best gift ever.”_

 

_As soon as she’d uttered the words, the girl abruptly turned her head towards the boy and, leaning her arm and shoulder against his, she kissed his cheek. Lingering a little longer than the simple gesture warranted, Kagome could feel the thrilling tingle in her lips as they drifted across his skin—and at the same time, she watched from a distance as the boy blushed at the contact, turning his chin almost imperceptibly into her mouth._

 

_She pulled away, and the boy stared at her with eyes… with eyes… eyes that were…_

 

_She couldn’t focus._

 

_Kagome lifted her head from her legs and opened her eyes, blinking at the scene before her as it started to flicker and dim. The extra sensory input was fading, her awareness receding back to her own perspective. She was simply herself again. The pain was lessening. As she slowly uncurled from her defensive huddle against the ground, she heard the boy say, “Kagome…” She tried to focus on his face, tried to make out its details like tracing the landmarks on a map, and—_

 

And then she was looking at her own reflection: clear bright water, leaves and branches waving overhead. The suddenness of it left her reeling, and she had to grip the roots beneath her with both hands, anchoring herself.

 

The tree groaned and swayed. Its warm glowing light drew her gaze to its trunk, up to the pale scar in its bark.

 

Just like the tree in her vision.

 

“You were there,” she said, sounding out the words slowly, not quite sure of herself. “In that vision, or whatever. You were there.”

 

“Little soul,” creaked the tree in her mind, “I am in all times, for my roots drink from the Well of Time. I am in every age, every era, every world. And I have watched untold numbers of lives flicker like bright swift flames—including yours.”

 

“Mine?” She struggled to make sense of the words. “What do you mean, mine? How—”

 

“Kagome!” came a gruff, familiar voice some distance behind her.

 

Angling her torso enough to look back over her shoulder, she saw a large silver husky dart through the _torii_ gate opposite the tree. He stopped a few yards past the gate, and sharp golden eyes locked on her.

 

“Ken—” Catching herself, she corrected, “Inuyasha!”

 

Cocking his head slightly, the dog uttered a soft _whuff_ and approached the tree. “I shoulda known this is where I’d find you.”

 

“Where have you been?” she demanded, turning and carefully sliding off the tree root rimming the pool.

 

He huffed, ears flicking in annoyance. “I got stuck in the well.”

 

“Stuck? What do you mean, _stuck_?”

 

“Exactly what I said. The well wouldn’t let me through. When I jumped in after you, I kept falling but never landed anywhere. I was stuck, just _floating_ in there. It only now let me pass.”

 

She frowned, a twinge of concern niggling in the back of her mind. The possibility that she might have to face this alone asserting itself. But before she could speak, Inuyasha said, “You all right? Nothing… happened?” He looked her over as if checking for injury, which had her wondering if she _could_ get injured here.

 

Nodding, she said, “I’m fine. Are you?”

 

He seemed surprised by the question, head tilting as he regarded her. “‘Course I am.” He stepped a little closer to her and bumped her leg with his nose. “You’re the clueless human here.”  

 

At the gesture, her mind flashed to the scene she’d just witnessed: Kenta scooting closer, eager for petting. A rush of affection, somehow both familiar and foreign at once, swept through her. She suppressed the urge to reach out and brush her fingers against his ears. “Remember that next time you try to disappear on me.”

 

“I’ll try,” he replied wryly. Apparently satisfied with his inspection of her, his gaze shifted to the tree, expression turning mullish. “What did you show her, Goshinboku?”

 

“Inuyasha,” the tree’s whisper-roar rippled in her mind—and obviously in Inuyasha’s, too, judging by the way his ears slanted forward. The tree’s leaves moved in an unfelt breeze, and it sounded like they whispered his name too, quiet mutterings of _Inuyasha_ surrounding them. “I have seen many an age pass since last you were here, young one.”

 

“That might be more impressive if you weren’t continuously seeing ‘many an age’,” he scoffed. “You’re probably watching a few millennia happen right now. What did you show her?”

 

“It was not I, as you well know, but the Well of Time that called her here.”

 

“To show her...?”

 

“What needed to be seen.”

 

A sigh. “You going to make me ask her?”

 

“The memory is hers to share, if she so wishes.”

 

The dog watched the tree a moment longer. Then, shaking his head, he asked, “And why did the well keep me out? I’m her guide, it had no business separating us.”

 

“Another question,” the tree rumbled, “whose answer you well know. If a soul is to come here, it must find its way alone. The Well of Time calls to those who seek. It tests the strength of their desire to find. That test must be faced alone.”   

 

Inuyasha looked like he had something to say to that, if the bristling fur around his shoulders meant anything, but the tree rolled on like a wave, “And this little soul found the way.”

 

A pause, in which the bristling eased a little. “Guess she did,” the dog muttered, and then sharp golden eyes turned to her. There was an intensity in his gaze—probing, studying, as though puzzling out a riddle—that made her fidget.

 

“Her desire is a powerful one,” whispered the tree. “Just as yours was.”

 

Inuyasha’s head whipped back towards the tree—Goshinboku, Inuyasha had called it—at the same moment Kagome said, “What?”

 

Lip pulling back in a soundless snarl, the dog warned, “Don’t.”

 

“Inuyasha?” Kagome asked, tone baffled.

 

“If you wish to guide this little soul truly,” continued Goshinboku, “remember why the Well of Time calls to departed ones, and the call it once made to you.”

 

For a brief moment, the only sound was rustling leaves. Inuyasha stood, stiff and unmoving, staring at the tree. Then he said, “Believe me, that’s not a reminder I’ll ever need.”

 

The ensuing silence was tense, and Kagome stepped forward uncertainly. “Inuyasha?” she asked again, quietly. “What’s going on?”

 

He kept his eyes on the tree. “We’ll talk about it later.” Then, to Goshinboku, “Is there anything else she needs to see here?”

 

A long wooden groan. “She cannot return to Time’s waters so soon, or she may be swept away by its tides. The Well of Time showed her what she needed to see. Now her own journey must begin. Little soul,” Goshinboku addressed her with a forcefulness that nearly made Kagome jump, “remember that which Time’s waters showed you. And remember, too, that what you witnessed was a single wave crashing against the shore. You must, I think, face many more waves before you reach their source. They may be larger and more dangerous waves than the first—take care that they do not drown you.”

 

Before she could think to answer, Inuyasha said with the faintest undertone of a growl, “That won’t happen. That’s why I’m here.”

 

“Yet some paths must be traveled alone.”

 

“Not this one.”

 

A low wooden groaning was its only reply. At the same moment, the tree’s enormous branches began waving as though in a high wind. The water in the basin at the tree’s roots began to ripple, then to eddy and swirl as it slowly drained down, back into the ground from which it had sprung.

 

“It is time,” rumbled Goshinboku, the trickling sound of water underpinning the words. “Return to the well. It will direct your path.”

 

Inuyasha gave a curt nod. “It better not throw another punch like that. If it does, I’ll have to have a word with it. Or several.” He turned away from the tree then, facing the direction of the _torii_ gates. “C’mon, Kagome. We’re heading back to the wooden well.”

 

“Wait,” Kagome said, “But what about—?”

 

“Kagome,” Inuyasha cut in, voice low, “don’t. Let’s go.”

 

“But I don’t understand—”

 

“I’ll explain everything I can, all right? C’mon.”

 

Sighing, the girl glanced between the silver dog beside her and the quickly disappearing pool of water at the tree’s roots. Then her eyes drifted up to the pale slash of bark, so eerily like scar tissue, in the tree’s trunk. After staring at it for a moment, she nodded once, muttering, “Okay.”

 

Girl and dog walked back towards the line of _torii_ gates. Just before Kagome passed under the shadow of the first gate, she heard a whisper like the fluttering of leaves.

 

“Take care, little soul.”   

 

    

* * *

 

  


As they emerged from the other side of the dark tunnel of _torii_ gates, retracing Kagome’s earlier path through the forest, she turned to the dog trotting beside her and said, “What did the tree mean before? About the Well of Time calling to you?”

 

He sighed. “We’ll get to that, but first... what did you see in the water?”

 

She thought for a moment. “I saw… myself. And you.”

 

He flashed her a look. “Me?”

 

“Well, you know, your dog form. You said you’re in the form of my past pet, right? I saw my pet.” She paused again, considering. “Kenta. His name was Kenta. I saw… I think I saw the day I got him.”

 

Though he was facing straight ahead, she could see him watching her from the corner of his eye. “And did you see anything else?” he asked.

 

Casting her mind back to that strange yet familiar scene, Kagome said at length, “Yeah. There was someone else there with me. A boy. He’s the one who gave me Kenta. He…” She trailed off, remembering the barely-there kiss to his cheek, the lingering sensation of it—and also the total obscurity of him, as though he was little more than a ghost.

 

“He what?” Inuyasha prompted.

 

“Nothing. I—er, my past self?—obviously knew him, that’s all. Guess we were friends.”

 

“Did anything else happen? Did it trigger any new memories?”

 

Kagome thought hard about that. She tried to put herself back in that moment, tried to attach some meaning—something, _anything_ —to what she had seen in the Well of Time. But all she could feel was a sense of curiosity, mingled with a vague and almost nostalgic affection. Try as she might to investigate that feeling, nothing came from it. She didn’t know what to _do_ with it. Because in the end, she’d simply observed a moment, divorced from all context. And despite the sensory flood that had assailed her then, she’d fundamentally been just that: an observer. That moment didn’t feel... _hers_.

 

And yet, it still lingered. The soft fur beneath her fingers, the press of a warm arm against hers, the tingling in her lips. That was hers, wasn’t it?

 

And if it was, what then?

 

She felt a soft, canine nose nudge her hand, and she glanced at Inuyasha, who was walking closer than he had been before.

 

“Don’t force it,” he said quietly. “It’ll come.”

 

She nodded even as she asked, “You sure?”

 

“That’s why I’m here—to make sure it does.”

 

They walked in silence for awhile beneath the sun-dappled canopy of the forest. She felt the same drowsy peace that she had before, blanketing her awareness, but the draw of it was less overpowering with Inuyasha there to give her something else to focus on.

 

“You know,” she said distractedly, “we may not even find the well. It totally disappeared after it dropped me here.”

 

“Oh, trust me,” he said with a hint of grim amusement, “it’ll find us.”

 

Another beat of silence, and then she asked, “You’ve been to that place before, haven’t you?”

 

He glanced at her, then away again. “Yeah. I have.”

 

Recalling the mystifying conversation she’d had with the tree, and its odd response to Inuyasha, Kagome said slowly, “Goshinboku said that the Well of Time… _called_ you there?”

 

“It did, once. Exactly like it called you.” A long, canine sigh. “I should’ve expected as much when the well wouldn’t let me through.”

 

Something like understanding was building, her mind just on the cusp of it. “But then… if the Well of Time called you there, then does that mean you…?”

 

His left ear flicked, and his gaze slid back to her.

  
“It means I was human once, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to StoatsandWeasels as a very very very very very like ridiculously late birthday present. Dunno how you put up with me, but I'm sure glad you do. 
> 
> Also, as Stoats pointed out: "If you ain’t talkin’ to trees, you ain’t shit." Clearly the theme of this chapter. 
> 
> _Terms_ :   
> _Torii_ : A traditional Japanese gate most commonly found at the entrance of or within a Shinto shrine, where it symbolically marks the transition from the profane to the sacred.  
>  _Kasuga torii_ : A specific style of _torii_ gate.  
>  _Kasagi_ : The black, curved "roof" or top of the _torii_ gate.
> 
> And finally, just a quick note to let y'all know: I'll be concentrating pretty exclusively on _You Are My Shelter_ for a little while (at least until I've posted another two to three chapters for it), so updates for this story may be thin on the ground for a stretch. But don't worry: I'm definitely finishing this story. I'm just trying to figure out the balancing act of working on multiple ongoing stories at once. Thanks for your patience while I learn how to do that.


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